X

shy

being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.

wordcount: 13.5k+

—————

"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run."

Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong.

"No, 'm alright."

He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off.

(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car.

Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him.

Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails.

To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.

At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together.

As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office.

Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment.

"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)."

She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted.

"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.

Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side.

"Harry..."

"Jeff, please. She jus'—"

(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her.

—————

Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place.

He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called.

(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being.

It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone.

Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff.

Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain.

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out.

She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort.

"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed.

"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her."

(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin.

Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful.

That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.

"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off."

"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you."

If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.

Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side.

She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie.

It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features.

He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before.

"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall.

At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie.

"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones.

That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row.

—————

"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!"

(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).

It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like.

Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood.

Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him.

She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it.

Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.

—————

"Call me if you need anything!"

Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through.

Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.

The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles.

A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table.

(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list.

The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point.

Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach.

Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes.

Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there.

(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day.

Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.

With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans.

That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either.

It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there.

"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff.

Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay.

"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath.

It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight.

"A-Are you sure?"

A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite."

(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—"

"Then, 'm sure."

The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip.

A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal.

She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full.

It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was.

—————

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!"

(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour.

"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you."

All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite.

She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her.

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands.

(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much."

He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her.

Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him.

"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly."

A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in.

"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind."

Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together."

(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?"

"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?"

The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence.

"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask.

"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you."

Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was.

"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute."

"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret.

With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.

—————

Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time).

Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling.

"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?"

She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?"

The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing."

"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy.

"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!"

(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!"

"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—"

"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?"

This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed.

"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed."

The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume."

It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage.

If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her.

—————

(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her.

That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off.

"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.

She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—"

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay."

The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know.

—————

This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route.

"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all."

(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier.

"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options."

It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress.

Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day."

Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now.

That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule.

—————

How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room.

Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows.

As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way.

An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on.

After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room.

Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in.

"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—"

Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door.

Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door.

A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please."

Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)."

"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume.

Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?"

"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry.

"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—"

Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick.

As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet.

Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands.

"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body.

She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that.

Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things.

Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes.

"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat.

"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that."

"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"

"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me."

Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on."

Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again."

As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?

"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now).

Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat.

"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy.

"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?"

"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already."

(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?"

"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head.

"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing.

"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise."

"But—"

Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now.

It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again.

"It's alright, H—"

"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down."

"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.

"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—"

Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs.

All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.

"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise."

Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs.

"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier.

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay."

A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever.

Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose.

"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold."

(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears.

Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth.

She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment.

Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home.

"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.

Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom.

"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.

"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed.

Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit.

"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again."

"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle.

"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want."

Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again.

"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close.

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat.

"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap."

He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles.

"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls.

All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later.

Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day.

—————

"(Y/N)?"

Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold.

"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back.

"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that."

"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about."

"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain.

As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour.

"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it."

(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls.

"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything."

To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her.

"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)."

"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—"

"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it."

Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"

"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her."

(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever?

"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry."

A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?"

"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"

Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise."

It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake.

—————

(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence.

Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share.

He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice.

She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind.

He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words.

Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself.

It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view.

How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible.

She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought.

"Morning."

(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.

"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."

"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.

A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes.

"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..."

"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."

"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her."

After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?

"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly."

Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"

Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."

"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."

He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous."

"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it."

"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light.

"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?"

Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous."

"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing."

Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands.

"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life.

"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?"

"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them.

(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that."

He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out.

Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?"

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?"

She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly.

"I got my flu shot, remember?"

That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months.

The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth.

"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."

That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message.

Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.

—————

I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !

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watermelon6ugar

2 years ago

Secret Love Song

Hello, everyone! I’m writing again for the first time in about a year and I am so excited. I’ve been playing with this idea for a while but I finally got the motivation over last few weeks. ( i wonder why ;) ) There’s a bit more to it and I was considering posting a Part Two. So let me know if you want to see that!

“Why can’t I say I’m in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops.”

It was all happening for him. Having a solo career was something Harry had dreamed of since he was a kid – it was what he had showed up for at the X-Factor audition in the first place. He’d been more than happy to have the opportunity to be a part of the band and to experience everything with boys by his side. But now, for the first time in 7 years, his dream had finally become his reality.

The day had come for his debut album to release, one of the most anticipated days in the industry, and you couldn’t find anything suitable to wear to the release party. Some of your dresses were nice enough but nothing screamed important industry party to you.

You throw yourself down on your bed, burying your face deep into your pillow, figuring maybe you wouldn’t go. Between the music executives, press and fans, Harry would be tied up all night anyway. And the fact that the public still didn’t know about the two of you wouldn’t help much. He’d practically begged you to come though but his insistent invitation had a bit of a damper to it when he gently reminded you, you’d be going as his sister’s date. But even so, he swore up and down that he wanted you there, whether you got to be together or not.

Keep reading

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watermelon6ugar

4 years ago

Oh hey, I finally made a masterlist for this

Original Story…

Being in love with your best friend’s brother can make things rather complicated. ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Harry’s POV

The Aftermath…

I Just Had Sex

Didn’t Mean To Do It

Chill it Out, Take it Slow

No Escaping Your Love

Concepts

Series Tag

*requests for this series are open, so feel free to send them in if you’d like*

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

King of the Jungle III

A/N: Sorry for the wait!! We’ve had lots going on so we haven’t had a chance to write this one, but here is the highly requested continuation of our Tarzan!harry piece. You find out a little bit more about Harry in this one… they do the nasty again 👀but as always, this is all fiction so enjoy ✨✨✨ - n + d send feedback and requests here

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: mentions of death, smut, primal!kink, squirting 👀

word count: 8k

Y/N’s family had never been keen on a hands on approach to their work. Gorillas are rather territorial and protective creatures and messing with them could have them all get extremely hurt. Instead, Y/N and the crew stayed at a safe distance and collected data. It was more observational, they’d only step in if anyone got hurt.

The whole day Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. She wanted to know more about him and hoped that through speaking with him and showing him things that he would develop at a quicker pace. She hated feeling like she was above him in any way shape or form, but also knew that it was good to keep a safe barrier between the two of them. When Y/N got back to the camp for dinner she decided to do some investigating.

“How long have humans been coming here?” Y/N asked curiously, wondering if people had known about this place for a while or if it was her family that discovered it. “Just wondering because it seems like there are tons of resources here… seems like, like there were people here before you know?” Y/N didn’t want to blow her cover, no. Maybe tomorrow she could go to Harry’s tree house and see how it was that he knew English. Maybe have him tell her more? Part of her didn’t want to push him too hard, but she really did need answers. It was the only way she could help him.

Keep reading

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

what abt harry cumming inside y/n and then pins her down and fingers the cum back into her 😳

smut and dirty talk below. you’ve been warned :)

send in your concepts

Another moan leaves her mouth as he keeps fucking into her, sweat dripping down his toned chest, all the way down to the trail of dark, coarse hair leading down to his cock and her eyes follow it until Harry growls grabs at her left boob.

“Fuck, I love this cunt,” he thrusts harder and wipes the sweat off of his forehead as his other hand rubs her nipple, making her moan.

He slaps her boob and it jiggles, then pinches the pebbled nipple between his thumb and index finger. “So fuckin’ hot. Y’look so good under me.”

“Fuck me harder, come on baby fuck me harder,” she lets out another moan and he brings his other hand to the other boob, now squeezing both of them as he keeps fucking into her.

She feels all warm and snug around him, the room filling with wet sounds as his cock fucks into her wetness, and his balls slap against her bum with every thrust as if they’re composing the dirtiest song. It’s so good and lovely but also hot and filthy. He feels something in his lower stomach and at the tip of his cock and his hold on her tits become tighter.

“’M gonna cum baby, fuck,” he groans and she tries to hold on to his bum with his hands, feeling the muscles tighten with each thrust.

“Cum inside me,” she whispers, all fucked out, and slaps his bum, making his hips shake and he finally spills inside her.

As he keeps coming, she feels it inside her, all warm and tingling her insides, and he pulls out, some of his cum spilling out of her.

“Fuck. Pussy’s lookin’ good, darlin’”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t answer though. Instead, he gives her a smirk and swipes a finger over her wet clit, then bringing it into his mouth. “Tastes fuckin’ good too. Gonna keep it in ya, darlin’? Walk around with my cum inside your pretty cunt?”

She nods, feeling too fucked to answer and he sniffs, bringing his index and middle finger together and pushes his cum back into her hole, making her moan as she brings her own hand down to hold his wrist, in hopes that he’ll keep his fingers inside her.

“There we go. Hold it in or I’ll tie you up and walk you around the house like a fuckin’ dog, understand?”

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

UNCASVILLE

Prompt (from kofi commission): “Maybe a little blurb of HSLOT and reader on a day off exploring the city.”

warning: smut

i write for FREE - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

Just like this one-shot, you can commission me for any writing - available through my kofi page!

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

Lucy really - like really couldn’t believe her own eyes right now.

She had saved up her money to take a train into Uncasville for Love on Tour which was happening tomorrow and she was spending the day exploring the city.

She really didn’t know how the odds were in her favor to this extent.

She had just gotten a seat at a tiny pizzeria in the city - stuffed in a back corner because she was by herself when the booth next to her is seated.

And it is none other than Harry fucking Styles and his stunning wife sitting across from him - the long seat was shared and she could have reached out and touched YN.

Harry had removed the hood of his hoodie then his beanie, then his sunglasses before handing them to his wife to put in her bag.

They were both dressed extremely casual.

Harry is a puffer jacket, black hoodie, and grey athletic shoes and YN in a familiar hoodie with the words DAMN. that she recognizes as her husband’s with cropped black leggings and nikes. **

Lucy is desperately trying not to stare as she sips on her water and she can’t believe her hands are shaking - they’re right there.

“Will you rub my thighs when we get home? They’re so fucking sore from that workout,” YN complains as soon as she plops down in the booth - her foot coming to rest on Harry’s thigh under the table.

His large hand, Lucy notices there are no rings right now except for his wedding band, squeezes her ankle and thumbs at her as he glances over the menu.

And when she hears his voice for the first time in person, holy shit, it’s deep and raspy but somehow smooth as silk with his accent.

“When have I ever said no to rubbin’ you down?” He smirks in a way that reminds Lucy of a schoolboy who just said a dirty joke.

“That one time in Glasglow,” She raises her eyebrow teasingly, making it seem like it was an inside joke which it definitely was because Harry blushes.

“I tried to get t’get it up, I was bloody smashed,” He defends, smirking micheviously when he pinches her and she jerks her foot off with a scowl, “Don’t forget I still helped you out plenty.”

“Mm, don’t recall,” YN obviously lies, biting back a smile as she scans over the menu, “What did I get here last time?”

“Y’got tha’ spinach pizza and we shared those garlic knots,” Harry hums, pouring them both water from the pitcher provided.

Jesus, he’s probably one of the most famous men on this earth with world tours and movies and companies but he still remembers what his wife ordered a dingy restaurant in Connecticut?

“Oh yeah, that was so good. Will you split those with me again?” She asks, putting back down the menu and sipping her water - well, chugging it really until it’s gone.

“Of course. I told you tha’ y’need to drink more water while we work out,” Harry frowns, pushing his glass towards her for her to sip on.

And it was just that, they were so domestic and so obviously in love - he had heart eyes for her and he was so attentive.

After they order, Harry’s phone buzzes and he huffs before he fishes it out to answer, “Wha’ Jeff?”

YN happens to glance over as she admires the art on the wall and Lucy quickly distracts herself with her book that she has open in front of her.

“No. I told y’that I’m not workin’ today. YN and I just want to-“

He’s cut off by whatever his manager is babbling about with a furrowed brow, his hand coming up to roll his bottom lip with frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine, yeah,” Harry mutters hurriedly trying to get off the phone, “Alright, s’fine. As long as I’m home by five. Bye.”

YN looks back to her husband, “What did he just talk you into?”

“Meeting with Sony about the new album,” He sighs, running a hand through his curly locks, “Said I should be out by four.”

“Okay,” She agree calmly, nudging her foot against his with reassurance, “It’s fine.”

“I love you,” Harry replies with a small smile, secret and just for her, “Best partner I could ask for, so good t’me.”

Lucy resists the urge to pull out her phone to snap a picture or record their conversation - she was better than those intrusive fans.

They deserved privacy from the world like everyone else, sure she was eavesdropping but she promises herself that she won’t share this experience with anyone.

When their food comes, they both chow down on the pizza and garlic bread - talking animatedly throughout their meal.

She learns that Sarah and Mitch have had their baby on tour the whole time and Harry loves playing with him.

That Anne was coming to all the Los Angeles shows and staying at their house with them - planning a surprise party for her belated birthday.

That YN was flying out later in the month to support Gemma at a clothing campaign she’s doing with a British brand.

Then Harry shoves the last piece towards her, groaning, “Eat tha’, m’so full.”

For how lean and in shape Harry is, Lucy was surprised by how much he could eat and was quite impressed - boys and their metabolisms.

“I can’t, I’m stuffed,” She shakes her head, pushing it back towards him with a heavy exhale as she pats her stomach.

“M’gonna stuff you,” Harry mutters with that same wolfish expression before he stacks their plates and finishes his water.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep,” YN purses her lips, reaching in her bag for his beanie and sunglasses.

“Oh, I’ll keep it, darlin’,” Harry gruffs with a low, bravado and a dark look at her even when she rolls her eyes.

And the Harry is handing the waitress his black American Express before signing the bill with a large tip.

A fan approaches with her cell phone out and in the couples face, “Excuse me? Can we take a picture? I’m going to the concert tomorrow!”

Lucy can automatically see them both tense up, opposite from how relaxed they were a moment beforehand.

Harry plasters on a smile but he kindly shakes his head and says, “Not today, sorry.”

The girl visible gets upset, frowning as she remarks that she’s his biggest fan and that she’s spent so much money on his merch.

“Okay, just one,” Harry replies tersely, he seemingly agrees because it’s easier than engaging in a fight with the ‘fan’.

Then the girl scampers of with a prize picture on her phone, already sharing it to social media most likely, with not care that she disrespected his boundaries.

“You’re okay,” YN murmurs as they gather their things, she steps over to him and tugs him into a hug which he welcomes fully, “Tonight, just me and you at the apartment - movies and snacks. Just us.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait. I need tha’. Just me n’ you,” Harry agrees a bit happier and he tilts his wife’s jaw up for a kiss before squeezing her one more time.

Lucy knows and has seen pap/fan pictures and videos of them being affectionate- remembers how bitter fan girls always say their relationship is exaggerated or even fake.

Well, there is absolutely no way they could fake the love that they have for each other, it was obvious to Lucy how in love they were.

She watches as they leaves, doesn’t miss how Harry lands a smack on her bum before intertwining their hands.

Lucy sticks to her words, never tells anyone but her mom about what she witnessed in that little pizzeria in Uncasville .

As for Harry and YN, when he arrives at the meeting headquarters, he’s bombarded by paparazzi but scurries inside.

YN - back at their hotel room, orders all his favorite snacks, sets up all the fluffy blankets and pillows on the living room couch for when he comes home.

She can tracks his movements on her phone so when he’s heading home, she jumps in the shower because she knows he will join her.

Which he does, as soon as he finds her, he strips out of all of his clothes - leaving his vintage bomber jacket and jeans on the floor as he crowds into her despite how massive the shower is.

He hugs her from behind and lays his forehead on the back of her head, “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” YN replies, putting her hands over his on her belly, “How was the meeting?”

“Stressful,” Harry sighs, pulling her back until she pressed up against his hard chest, “Already talking about the third album’s tour dates. S’just so much considering tha’ I’ve only toured the US for this one and have so many more dates in other countries.”

“Not surprised,” She replies with an edge of irritation, they always stretched him so fucking thin.

“Hey, hey darlin’,” Harry coos softly, kissing her hair, “As long as I have y’with me, m’good. S’gonna be okay, lovie. Don’t get all pouty on me.”

“I hate sharing you. I have to share you nearly every night with tens of thousands of people,” YN mumbles, turning around to smush her cheek against his peck, chest against his.

Harry can’t help but twitch at the feeling of her pert nipples on his skin but he chuckles deeply, “Darlin’, I come home to you, yeah? Every night, m’in our bed. I got a ring on m’finger letting everyone know who I belong to. S’just me and you, has been since we were sixteen.”

YN begins to pepper kisses on his neck as he massages at the little bit of pudge he can never get rid of on his hips.

“Sweetheart,” He groans loudly when her hand dips lower to grasp him in her grip and give him a few tight tugs, “How could y’think I belong to anyone else? S’your cock, baby.”

“Mmm, it is,” She agrees demurely, thumb rubbing at the sensitive spot beneath his crown before dragging over his drippy slit.

“Yeah, right like tha’,” Harry babbles, pushing into her hand to get a rhythm going - pants coming out from his plump lips as his eyes watch in rapt.

“Only I get you like this,” She states, almost to herself, as she sucks a gnarly hickey onto his chest near his sparrows - just to prove a point.

“Just you, you’re so good - fuck,” He hisses when she rolls his balls expertly with her other hand before he’s snapping out of it and shoving her off.

“Harry, what-“ She begins to ask, confused but she’s spun around once again and he pushes her against the cold tile - shushing her squeak at the coldness.

“Gonna let me ‘ave it?” His sex voice is in full force as his lips brush against her ear - she can feel how hard he is as he rubs up against her bum.

“Please, H,” YN whines impatiently, spreading her legs a bit further and pushing back until he snugs inbetween her cheeks.

“Yeah, s’okay. Let me give it to you,” Harry murmurs as he bends his knees a bit and grips her waist to position her until he’s slipping into her warm heat.

“Yes, shit,” She huffs as he begins a delicious pace that isn’t to fast but hard, enough that she has to focus on keeping her footing.

“Tha’s it. It’s all yours, take it, darlin’,” He encourages as he slams in with determination, hand reaching around to hold onto her breast.

“Baby,” YN moans loudly, echoing over the pounding water and echos throughout the room, “Fuck, that’s good.”

“God, y’so sexy. How’d I fuckin’ get you?” Harry hisses, he tugs her leg up and really starts fucking in until she’s screaming with pleasure as she orgasms.

Then he’s following behind with a few more directed thrusts until he’s spilling inside her - she can feel his ribcage expanding and deflating with each heavy pant of air.

“Mm, cuddle time now?” He asks innocently, like he wasn’t just spewing filth and fucking her brains out a minute ago.

“Y’in charge of scrubbing me since you insist on coming in me, then we can watch that new movie on Netflix, okay?”

Harry smiles boyishly, nuzzling her damp cheek.

“Y’act like it’s a hardship to wash up m’pretty lil’ wife. C’mon, spread ‘em.”

They’re halfway through the movie when YN pops her head up off Harry’s chest, “Can we go to that ice cream place down the street?”

Harry, who was admittedly dozing off, rasps out, “Y’want to go right now?”

“Please? They have fudge mint chocolate chip,” She gives him the best pouty lips that has him groaning but still agreeing.

“I’m only sayin’ yes because y’put out earlier,” He jokes as he tugs on his trainers and then his puffer jacket.

“You would have taken me if I hadn’t,” YN points out as she tugs on her own shoes.

He tries to conceal his fond smile but fails, “You’re right, still give you everything you wanted if you didn’t.”

Cameron was hallucinating, she was sure of it because when she steps in Big Scoops with her parents after a basketball game.

Harry fucking Styles and his wife are standing in front of him.

Holy shit.

She was trying to contain her fangirling as they stand right in front of her in line to get ice cream, like…what?

Cameron also completely regrets not turning in her chemistry essay because that earned her an F which in turn had her parents take away her phone.

She couldn’t document this moment.

YN and Harry both looked tired, Harry was standing behind his wife with his arms around her shoulders in a bear hug.

“Do you think they’ll give you a discount or a freebie?” YN asks her husband in a sweet, teasing tone.

“Y’have said that joke for the last eleven years and it hasn’t gotten any funnier,” He chuckles but it was with affection and tone like he found it funny but didn’t want to admit it.

“M’sleepy,” YN murmurs, a yawn following the statement - she turns around in his arms and hugs him, arms around his middle.

Harry waddles them forward when the line moves and she giggles cutely into his chest.

They were just so fucking cute.

“We can sleep in tomorrow,” Harry reminds her, quietly like he knows people might be listening to them, “Sound good, pet?”

“Mm,” She agrees, turning to order when it’s their turn and then Harry does - he steps forward to hand them his card and Cameron sees him sneak a fifty in the tip jar.

The teens behind the counter ask for a group picture which Harry agrees to but Cameron notices that the genuine, happy smile that he had for his wife contorts into a more tense, forced one.

She couldn’t really blame him. He was just trying to get a late night snack with his spouse before his show the next day.

Cameron notices that when they thank him and separate that YN rubs his back in reassurance and guides him out of the shop protectively.

She hears her murmur, “I know. Let’s go home, bub.”

She decides not to blast the encounter all over social media because tonight made him seem so much more human.

Lucy finds it to be such an odd experience, seeing Harry on stage the next night because of how she saw him the day before.

He was such a bright light on stage as he shimmied and danced like he was having them time of his life up there.

She is towards the back of the pit, when the show begins and YN trails out with Jeff and Tommy - Lucy makes eye contact with YN.

And to her utter surprise, YN beckons her over as Harry transitions into Only Angel, his wife yells over the music.

“Were you at the pizza shop yesterday?” YN asks curiously, leaning over the barricade.

Lucy is surprised by the fact that YN remembered her (she did have very distinct thick framed glasses and her hair was dyed electric blue so…).

She nods, starstruck, YN was even more beautiful close-up and her outfit fit her body perfectly, big engagement ring shining in the lights. ***(pretend the color matches his outfit).

“I just want to thank you for not blasting our business all over the internet, truly, thank you,” YN replies sincerely, a soft smile made Lucy feel welcome and less nervous.

Lucy had to take a moment to find her voice, “Y-you’re welcome, you guys deserve privacy just like the rest of us.”

YN turns to say something to Jeff that Lucy cannot hear and then she faces her again with an envelope in her hand.

“Two pit tickets, for tomorrow nights show,” YN informs her as she hands the shaking girl the item - ignoring all the other fans recording their interaction.

“Wha- are you?” Lucy stutters out in absolute disbelief - she had to be dreaming or something, instead she puts her foot in her mouth and chokes out, “Can I give you a hug?”

YN doesn’t think twice before she’s shooing off the security guards and reaching out to give her a tight hug.

Lucy pulls back, she happens to glance at the stage where Harry is staring at them intently - attempting to seem engaged in singing but he is watching protectively to make sure everything’s okay.

When YN and him make eye contact, she rolls her eyes at his watchfulness which makes him give her a dimpley smile and blow them a kiss.

Yeah, Lucy just won at life.

Sometime treating people with kindness really does pay off.

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

VALERIE - Part I. (Harry Styles)

I am BEYOND excited to show you this story!! i was so keen on writing a good ol’ enemies to lovers story and then this idea came to me out of nowhere and got me chained to my laptop once again, lol. i really hope you’ll enjoy it as much as i loved writing it!! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

word count: 4k

SERIES MASTERPOST

SERIES PLAYLIST

masterlist

The pink balloons keep bumping into everything on your way down the hallway, they even snake around some random dude’s neck and you almost choke the poor guy in your rush. You keep mumbling your sorry every time they hit someone in the head, but you’re not even paying that much attention. Your top priority now is to find the room you are looking for.

You almost miss it, so as you stop so suddenly you slide on the checkered floor before you step back and finally see your sister in the room, holding her little angel in her arms, Steven standing at the end of the bed, the proudest smile on his face you’ve ever seen.

Keep reading

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